A Conversation between Husband & Wife
Updated: May 11
There was something in the air that day; an inappropriate vibrance. It may have been the smell of perfume married to the light of the sun or the sound of the birds chirping happily as though no regard for their surroundings. Perhaps, it was the purity of the bright blue sky or rather the colour of their eyes as they gazed into each others’. But the feeling of romance was as ripe as the gentle whisper of Ylang Ylang.
“Where would you go first?” He asked, “when this is all over.”
“Today, I rather feel like an overcast Sunday in Saint-Paul-de-Vence,” she replied. “Perhaps we’d walk around for a bit before stopping for lunch at that restaurant opposite La Colombe d’Or”.
“Ah - not Colombe d’Or then?”
“Well, it’s not exactly as though we’re living in my parents’ era for them to retain such a sense of zealousness. No no, I want to relax without competing with the bus-loads of tourists that pass by.”
“The corner restaurant it is,” he agreed.
“And then,” she continued, “we might pick up some cheese from the place we love…and perhaps a painting or two.”
“Why not three?” He calculated risk and reward. She rolled her eyes.
“Before,” she ignored his despondence, “returning to the villa…”
“We have another villa?!” His eyes widened.
“Yes but only for the Summer. I’d hardly want the hassle of the upkeep all year-round. We’d take the same one as my family summered in.”
“Oh good…” he feigned relief.
“And we’d lounge by the pool for the rest of the afternoon before the sun sets and the smell of honeysuckle gets heady which tells us it’s time to ready ourselves for dinner. In fact, I’d rather fancy driving down to Cannes.”
“That’s a long drive after such a relaxed day, darling,” he noted.
“It’s ok, I’ve booked Martinez, so we wouldn’t have to drive back. Because anyway, the next day we’re yachting to Club 55,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Good you’ve thought it through,” he smiled, his grey-green eyes sharpening.
“Always,” her eyes smiled back at his as though magnets.
“It’s a wonderful idea,” he took her hands, “lots to look forward to…next Summer.”
“No,” she sighed. “That feeling is just for today. Tomorrow may be different.”
“It’s still a nice thought,” he smiled.
But in her, she knew that the grey days often overshadowed the blue. And as she sat by him and stared at the vibrance of the sky, noted out loud “when you’ve been to places so dark you wonder how they exist; when life has shaken you up but been kind enough to spit you out; you realise what it is to be both grateful and resilient. As long as there is health in the bodies of those we love, we’ll continue to evolve. And then of course, there’s love. Love happens too and shakes you in a different way; it teaches you that as well as unimaginable darkness, also exists more blessed heights, feelings of contentment and joy than we can imagine.”
His forehead shaped into a frown as he looked seriously at his often-poetic wife. “Darling?” He put his arm around her.
“Yes?” She replied.
“Perhaps we can conjoin our Summer in one and head to Monaco first - I think a few days of Nikki Beach and magnums of Rose might be a good idea.”
She looked at him, the corners of his lips upturned to a wry smile. “Yes,” she giggled, “of course we can. Oh!” She remembered. “Oooor,” she began.
“Nikki Beach. Magnum.” He cut her off laughing.
“Le Grill, overlooking the harbour; that Haut-Medoc!” She responded most certainly.
As the world around them seemed to upturn and they sat beneath the blanket of the bright blue sky on a concrete terrace; he for the first time, noticed a sense of quiet only interrupted by the birds chirping happily. And perhaps it was the smell of her perfume or the light of the sun or maybe the colour of her big brown eyes highlighted with flecks of hazel, but the air was as ripe as the gentle whisper of Ylang Ylang.